Counting Stars
by Amycat8733
Summary: John and Cam bump into each other but never really meet … until they do. Slash. Drama, h/c, action, romance. Warnings: M/M, explicit sex, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of violence and torture in later chapters.
1. Battle of Antarctica

Author's Notes: Hello All! Welcome to the first part of my Counting Stars 'verse. I will warn you now, this story is SLASH. If you don't like it, don't read it. I won't be offended if you don't read it but I will be upset if I get flames for to the response I've received from The Pea, I've decided to post this and the other stories here. So, on with our fab flyboys!

* * *

 **Notes:** Between the Battle of Antarctica against Anubis when Cam is injured, and Jack frozen in the Outpost, and Jack's promotion to Brigadier General and CO of the SGC we have eight months. Cam joins the SGC and SG1 as Sam's second-in-command 6 months later (After 'Icon' 8x05, or around the time of 'Avatar' 8x06). At this time, Weir and her Expedition are almost ready to leave for Atlantis, and O'Neill visits the Outpost meeting Major Sheppard, who joins the Expedition. From this moment, season 1 of Atlantis and Season 8 of SG1 go together.

After 'Moebius' the SGC receives a message from Atlantis ('Letters from Pegasus') and launches an Operation to save Atlantis ('The Siege').

At this time, Cam has been in the SGC 1 year.

Also after 'Moebius', Sam leaves the SGC for Area 51 and Teal'c joins the Free Jaffa in Dakara. Cam is left in command of SG1, but Daniel also wants to leave for Atlantis. Jack is promoted again and sent to DC, and Landry becomes the CO of the SGC.

During 'Prometheus Unbound', Vala helps the SGC to gather information about the Goa'uld, the Lucien Alliance and other things around the Galaxy, and she earns their trust. She comes to Earth because she found an Ancient tablet for Daniel to translate. As a consequence of her little prank with the Goa'uld handcuffs and their experimenting with the stones terminal, they meet the Ori ('Avalon' and 'Origin'). With the threat of the Ori, O'Neill transfers Sam back to the SGC, leaving Cam in command to allow her time to play in the labs. Teal'c rejoins SG1; Daniel passes on going to Atlantis, and Vala joins in too, all to fight the Ori.

This is when the Expedition leaders return to the SGC for debriefing and to reorganize the Expedition.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Battle of Antarctica**

Standing in the lee of a corrugated metal shed, Major John Sheppard watched the Battle of Antarctica. It was good that he had on snow goggles when a bright flash lit the area, otherwise he'd have been blinking away spots big enough to fly a C-130 through. He watched the sky long after the last flashes flickered overhead until his attention was drawn to his radio.

"Major Sheppard, report to Colonel Wilson's office."

"Understood."

John pulled his scarf up and headed for his CO's office. He stepped through the inner door and was struck by a wall of heat. He frowned inwardly at the extravagance. The barracks were chilly enough that everyone slept in two layers of clothes. John slept in an arctic sleeping bag and long johns from LL Bean that he'd paid to have shipped to the frozen South. He unwound his scarf and draped it over his shoulders then stuffed his hat and goggles in his pocket.

He snapped to attention and saluted as he announced his presence. Wilson was a stickler for formality from his subordinates even though he rarely used it himself.

"Sheppard. I've been ordered by the Pentagon to loan you to a highly classified project. They requested you specifically." Wilson picked up a bright red packet and handed it to John. "Here are your orders. I am required to remind you that this mission falls under the National Secrets Act." Wilson's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Dismissed."

John saluted again, spun smartly on his heel then left. He paused in the vestibule between the doors to don his hat, scarf, gloves and goggles once more then hurried back to his former position behind the shed. Safe from prying eyes, he opened the packet. He scanned the sheet inside then went back and re-read it slowly. He was to fly CSAR for the so-called training exercise he'd witnessed a scant few hours ago.

He headed to his single in the barracks – one of the few perks he got and changed into his flight gear. When he reached the helipad, his copter had been pushed out to the pad and uncovered, and the flight mechanics had added the skis. He normally didn't get skis, but then, as one of the two pilots with clearance for the Top Secret research posts, he usually landed places that had places for him to land instead of loose snow. He slowly walked around his copter and performed the visual part of his pre-flight check. Done, he climbed in and started the copter up.

"Flight, this is Penguin. How's the weather?"

"Weather is clear and a balmy 47, Penguin."

"Copy that. Flight will be dark, tower."

"Understood Penguin. Flight under wraps. Happy hunting."

"Roger that, tower. Going dark."

"You are clear for takeoff, Penguin."

"Thanks, tower. Lifting off."

John worked the throttle and cyclic and took off. Once he cleared the immediate surrounds; he flipped channels to the one listed in his oh-so-short orders.

"Cloud 7, this is Penguin en route from McMurdo for CSAR."

"Penguin, this is Cloud 7. Work your way towards us. Beacon is on channel 143. IFF's are code 19-7-3. You are to mark positions of any downed craft. Set your GPS markers for frequency 7. We will dispatch crews with retrieval equipment. You are only authorized to land if the pilot is in imminent danger."

"Copy that, Cloud 7."

John flipped several switches and soon a soft beeping filled the cockpit. He adjusted course and the beep from the IFFs grew stronger. When the beep became a steady tone, John put his copter into a hover. Below and to his left was a damaged aircraft, which resembled something from the old Battlestar Galactica. He spotted no movement, so he grabbed a GPS tracker, set it then opened his window enough to drop it out. The trackers also had the benefit that they shut the IFF's down so searchers wouldn't be pulled back to the same crash site.

He located three more craft in the same way. He also found the remains of several more that did not have working IFF. He marked those as well and presumed that the recovery teams would know how to deal with them. Routine went out the window when he topped a rise and found his fifth IFF just past a huge debris field. Splotches of red made a trail to a green-clad figure but had rung the dinner bell for a seriously far-ranging, as in wrong side of the planet, polar bear. John pushed the cyclic forward and lowered to skim the crash site and the bear. He figured the bear had probably been tagged at some point because when he saw the copter, he took off as fast as he could.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell was pissed, hurting and half frozen. The battle against the aliens (and wasn't that a kick in the ass?) had been going against them until a bunch of somethings that resembled golden squids squirted past his F-302. He'd used the squids to get close to one of the fat bastards and deliver a fatal blow, but the lucky bastard got him with its final shot before it crashed.

He blacked out briefly when he hit the ground, but the chill seeping in woke him. He wished it hadn't though as he could barely feel anything below his waist. Crawling from the plane using his arms and minimally working legs was hell. Being out of the plane was good as he could see the sky, but it was bad as he was out of the minimal protection it might have offered. He still didn't know if his co-pilot, Adam Banks, was alive or not. After a burst of fire had damaged their 302, he'd heard nothing from his friend. He collapsed against a snowbank to rest.

A growl woke him from his nap. An honest to God polar bear had decided that corn-fed Kansas flyboy was on the menu for dinner.

"Don't you know … red meat … is bad … for your health?" Cam asked.

The bear growled again and took a step forward just as an angel flew over the rise behind him. The pilot dipped the nose and buzzed the bear. The bear decided its eyeballs were bigger than its stomach and headed for colder pastures.

A cold wind whipped the snow up as the pilot landed. A lanky flight-suited figure dismounted from the cockpit, med kit in hand. The pilot dropped to his knees in the snow beside Cam.

"How ya doin'?"

"Been better." Cam said. "Hey, how 'bout my co-pilot, Major Banks? Did he make it?"

The other man looked over his shoulder at the wreckage. Even at this distance, he could tell the guy was dead. Half of his head appeared to be missing. Glancing down, he shook his head as he returned to the task at hand. "I need to know how badly you're injured before I can move you." The pilot pulled his aviators off and tucked them in a chest pocket. His gloves were next as he fished a bag of saline from his kit then set the IV in the back of Cam's hand.

"Having trouble feeling anything below my waist."

The pilot ran knowing hands along Cam's legs and chest. Cam felt an odd tingle where the other pilot's hands touched him. "Well, you've got compound fractures in both legs and a few busted ribs. I'm gonna get a backboard before I move you." He dug into the kit again for some pressure bandages and held them up. "I'm gonna put these on to stabilize the breaks and so you don't bleed all over my copter."

Cam made a face at the mention of the restrictive backboard. "Nice to know you care." He grunted.

"Hey, you'd do the same if our positions were reversed."

The pilot looked Cam in the eye as he made the statement and Cam was struck by the man's handsome features. His savior had the most gorgeous hazel eyes set in a slim face with the shadow of beard stubble darkening the cheeks. Cam stared as the man adjusted his IV, the spell finally being broken when the pilot stood and hurried back to his chopper. He returned with the backboard and Cam sputtered and cursed as the pilot got him settled.

"I'm gonna give you a hit of morphine before I move you cause this is gonna suck."

Cam nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. As a distraction, he checked out his savior in an attempt to remember as many details as possible so he could find him later. He caught sight of part of the man's name tag as the syringe met the IV.

 ** _John Shep…_**

Darkness hid the rest.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John grunted as he dragged the fighter pilot to his copter. He could still feel the fading sensation of heat running through his body from touching the other man. He'd seen his fare checking him out and had to admit that the attention was flattering. McMurdo was not a dating hotspot regardless of your orientation. He liked both men and women, but his partners had been mostly female over the last fifteen years since he signed his commission for the Air Force. His male liaisons had been few and far between, more quickie than anything meaningful.

He noted the guy's name for his report and future reference. If DADT ever was repealed, he'd look the guy up and see what happened.

John propped the board against the copter and hurried to the other side so he could drag the guy in while wishing he had a flight medic aboard or at least a corpsman to help with the lifting. He'd be sleeping on heating pads tonight. "Well, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, you are a lot of trouble." He said to his unconscious passenger as he secured him in the back of the copter. "Next time we meet, you owe me a steak and some beers."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The beacon led him to a spot in the ass end of nowhere. The only things that made the area notable were the group of tents and the hole in the ice that a bunch of grunts was trying to cover. He didn't want to know what was down there. He landed near the field hospital and motioned over a pair of corpsmen who quickly unloaded his passenger and hustled him inside.

A lieutenant popped up at his elbow. "Major, Colonel Lawton wants to see you."

John smirked. _Of course he does._ "Lead the way, Lieutenant."

John was escorted to a big green tent. The lieutenant opened the flaps for John but stayed outside.

"Major Sheppard, as requested, Sir."

"At ease, Major," Lawton said. "So why did you land instead of dropping a marker?"

"My orders were to drop markers unless the survivor's life was in danger, Sir," John said in his best I'm right and you know it drawl. "Within the scope of my orders, I figured a hungry polar bear qualified as a threat. It most likely had been attracted to the area by the scent of blood, Sir."

Watching Lawton grind his teeth, John wondered if the man had any left.

"You did well, Major," Lawton said. "Grab some chow and get your bird refueled. I need you back in the air soon as possible."

John's eyes bugged, but he kept his mouth shut. Regs called for more time between flights, but he figured this was a special case. The look in Lawton's eyes was daring him to object. "Yes, Sir."

After a hot MRE that he took his time eating, John was back in the air. He found four more craft before fading light and exhaustion forced him down. The same lieutenant met him again and accompanied him to the mess hall and to the field hospital when he noticed John's hunched posture. John considered protesting, but his back hurt too much. He'd gotten caught in some turbulence, and it had bounced him around a bit. The docs at the hospital gave him a quick checkup, a couple of Tylenol 3, and a mild muscle relaxer. He'd tried to check on his patient, but the guy was nowhere in sight. Figuring he might be in a different area, John let it go.

The ever present lieutenant then took him to a tent. What he thought was one big tent turned out to be a smaller one inside a bigger one. The small one would hold two people although he was its only resident. Well, him and the ceramic heater in the middle of the floor. John kicked off his boots, stripped off his flight suit, unrolled the sleeping bag, and crawled in. He took his pills and drank down half a bottle of water and lay down. He was asleep in no time.


	2. Antarctica II

AN: Hello all and welcome back! In honor of the New Year, I have decided to bless you all with a new chapter! Beta thanks to the lovely DorothyOz!

Now, on with our story ...

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam groaned and heaped curses on the person who served the bad chicken salad as he lunged for the bucket beside his bed in the SGC's infirmary. His stomach was empty, but the dry heaves kept him doubled over just the same. His stomach relented and Cam flopped back onto the sheets. A shadow fell across his bed and he glanced up into the irritated face of Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.

"Mitchell, if you didn't want to go with me you could have said so."

Cam groaned again. He'd been looking forward to the Antarctica trip. It had been over a year since the battle and he'd been hoping to get to talk to his savior. "I'd love to go with you, but I think Doctor Lam might hurt me if I try."

Jack grimaced. "Yeah, I make it a point to never mess with doctors. The big needles are scary." He patted Cam on the foot. "You get better. I don't wanna hear that you've been slacking off."

"Not me, Sir." Cam crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."

Jack snorted. "Try again and I might believe it. I'll get a pilot when I get to McMurdo."

Cam almost recommended Sheppard but thought it might look a bit strange. O'Neill had pushed and gotten DADT repealed for the SGC, but he didn't want to mess up Sheppard's career.

"Have fun!" Cam called as Jack headed for the door.

Jack gave him a single digit gesture of regard then walked out the door, Cam's laughter trailing him down the hall.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack O'Neill hated Antarctica with a passion. The place fucked with him every time he came within its grasp. This time was no different. His pilot, a Major John Sheppard, was very skilled and did a thorough inspection of his copter before they left McMurdo. That alone was impressive as many of the pilots he'd rode with over the years in various places did a cursory check then climbed in and took off. This guy definitely took his flying seriously.

His estimation of the major rose when he got the guy to tell him about the birds he'd flown. F-16, Pave Hawk, Pave Low, Cobra, Blackhawk, Osprey, and so on. Sounded like he'd flown everything he could get seat time for, which made him wonder why the guy was out here on the ass end of civilization. He made a note to check later. If it weren't anything too serious, he'd have Sheppard on a flight to Colorado.

The smelly stuff hit the spinning blades while they were en route when the outpost announced that a drone was live and seeking targets. The major rose several notches in his esteem when he out-maneuvered said live drone. Footwork that fancy deserved a reward, so he upped Sheppard's Security Clearance on the spot. The barely hidden look of appreciation proved him right in thinking he'd never been past the outpost's tiny mess hall.

Daniel snagged him at the bottom of the elevator and he barely had time to tell Sheppard not to touch anything before he was out of sight. Next thing he knew, he's being yanked out of his meeting with Daniel, Weir, and McKay to go to the Control Chair. Jack paused as he entered the area. Sheppard was sitting in the Chair looking very bewildered. Jack was confused too. The Chair was fully reclined and giving off as bright a glow as it did for Jack himself, possibly even brighter.

"I thought I told you not to touch anything?"

"S…sorry, Sir. I … I just sat down." Sheppard said.

"Major, think about where we are in the solar system." McKay snapped out.

Immediately, a very detailed map formed in the air above the astounded pilot's head.

"Did I do that?"

McKay, Weir, and Daniel started throwing questions at the poor guy who'd just become their favorite toy. One enterprising scientist pulled out a video camera to record the information the Chair was providing them.

Jack shook his head as he walked off, ignoring the plea for help that Sheppard had quickly sent his direction. Served him right to play light switch for a few hours for sitting in the damn chair.

An hour later he understood why Sheppard was at McMurdo. He'd disobeyed orders and went after another pilot, Captain Jared Holland that had been shot down. He returned three days later carrying a dead body and barely conscious. After he had been treated for his injuries and dehydration, he was called before the Disciplinary Board. He walked out with his rank intact, an Article 15 black mark on his record, and orders for McMurdo to waste away until he had time served or grew tired of frozen dinners.

Weir latching onto him and asking him to talk to Sheppard told him how bad she wanted the guy. He promised he'd talk to him and did so once they were back in the chopper. He regretted giving Sheppard an ultimatum, but his attitude had rubbed Jack's fur the wrong way. When they landed, Sheppard gave him the answer he'd known was coming, which was a yes. The kid had seen the writing on the wall. If he didn't step through the Gate right now, he'd spend the rest of his career playing taxi driver and Jack saw too much of himself reflected in Sheppard to let that happen.

"Look, I know I pushed ya a bit, but it's for your own good. You have too much skill to be flying taxi service to a bunch of scientists. I was in a similar position several years ago, looking at the tail end of my career. General Hammond did to me what I'm doing to you. He kicked my ass until I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got back on the horse." He reached up and slapped Sheppard on the back of his head. "This is me kicking your ass. You'll have your new orders within the next 48 hours. You'll be on detached duty to the outpost until the expedition leaves."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Huh, don't thank me yet. You'll probably be cursing me after you spend a week with McKay and the rest of his minions playing light switch. But," he waved his hand at the sky above them, "it'll all be worth it once you're out there."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

For John, the weeks flew by. He spent so much time in the Chair that he swore it was getting a dent from his butt. When he wasn't in the chair, he was usually with Miko Kusanagi or McKay activating Ancient devices. He'd decided to play dumb and keep his mouth shut for the time being, but it was hard when Kusanagi and McKay started throwing equations at each other and would get the math wrong. Oh, his fingers itched to correct the white boards, but he refrained. Time enough to make friends later.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Strolling through the halls of Cheyenne Mountain seemed surreal. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being there. Even Sumner's disapproval wasn't enough to dampen his enthusiasm. Standing in the Gate Room waiting for the dialling sequence to start, John wondered whatever happened to that pilot he'd rescued.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam released a deep sigh as he trudged through the Stargate. They'd encountered a nest of Lord Yu's Jaffa and it had taken awhile to clear them out. He was halfway to the infirmary when he noticed how clear the halls were. "Huh, the Expedition left already."

"Your powers of observation continue to amaze me Cameron Mitchell," Teal'c said.

"Hey, I'm tired and we're in safe territory, so give me a break."

Teal'c moved and Cam found himself against the wall.

"Complacency can get you killed, Mitchell."

Cam struggled but was unable to break Teal'c's hold. "Alright big guy, you win. I'll prop my eyes open a bit more and stay alert."

"That is all any of us can do." Teal'c intoned as he released Cam. "And the life you save by doing so may not be your own."

Later in his quarters, he called up the base locator to find his hazel-eyed savior. He thought he'd seen the guy a couple of times over the last few weeks, but every time he got close he had vanished. By going through the archives, he'd finally gotten the guy's full name and rank – Major John Sheppard. Last time he looked, which was a couple of months ago and a few days after O'Neill's visit, Sheppard was still listed as being stationed at McMurdo, but his status was blank. He'd heard Sheppard and O'Neill had a close call with a drone so maybe O'Neill had transferred him to the outpost. If he'd been reassigned, it meant the poor fella was spending most of his time deep in the ice instead of in the sky.

This time, he got a different answer. When he called up McMurdo, he found out that Sheppard was no longer there. He put Sheppard's info into a full database search and was rewarded with a hit. Sheppard was now listed as being in Colorado at Peterson Air Base. Cam was heartened until he looked at the status block which read E7A. E7 was the status for those that served at the SGC although, in the official documents, it was for deep space telemetry. E7A was new though and had been put in place for the Atlantis Expedition.

Cam cursed. With the possibility of the trip being one way, he might never get to find out if his first impression was the right one or if his gaydar was on the fritz.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Stepping through the wormhole into another galaxy was way beyond cool. Looking down John noticed a series of markings on the floor in front of the Stargate. Based on the splash of the wormhole on Earth, he presumed that the markings delineated a safety zone. The moment he moved beyond the Gate, he'd felt a hum start in the back of his mind. He paced further in and the lights came on. John paused, startled by the suddenness. Seeing that no one was up top yet checking amongst the shrouded consoles, John headed that direction, McKay a half step behind him. The moment his foot touched the first step of the grand staircase, lights in the steps and in the upper gallery came on. The consoles lit as he neared them, the screens turned on without a touch as if his presence alone was enough. The more things came on, the stronger the hum got until it was like a song or a partially muffled conversation. If he'd had the time to focus on it, John felt he could have made out words.

Alas though, his time grew very constrained. The trip to Athos went well – until the Wraith showed up and stole a bunch of people including Sumner and Teyla. The argument with Weir went as he expected it. The looks McKay started giving him after he computed the possible number of combinations for the six symbols Ford brought back were thoughtful and made John feel like he'd done a trick. Killing Sumner to stop the Wraith Keeper from gaining the location of Earth insured that John would have little free time in the future.

Later that evening, John was standing at the rail looking out at the alien ocean far below, his thoughts drifting, when an image of the pilot he'd rescued demanded his attention. Dark hair, blue eyes, firm jaw, and a mouth that could be serious or laughing in a heartbeat. After handing Mitchell over to the docs at the event site, John hadn't seen him since, but it was like they shared a connection. If he ever returned to Earth, he'd have to look the guy up and see if the connection existed.

Turning, he drifted away from the merriment and headed for the quarters he'd picked for himself. Many of the others had selected rooms with balconies and he could've as well. The room he chose had a beautiful view of the city and was at the end of a side corridor. No one lived near him so he had privacy. The suite wasn't enormous, but it had a big shower. The shower was his objective at the moment. The door opened with a thought, which was so cool. He tossed his jacket in the corner soon as he stepped through the door with his shirt soon following it.

He stopped to toe his boots off and shimmy out of his trousers and boxers. A detour to his backpack uncovered his toiletries. His liquid soap and bath pouf came out, the rest went on a shelf that extended from the wall at his desire. Another thought had hot water gushing from the shower heads. John stuck a hand in to test it and it was perfect. A whisper of sound at his elbow heralded the opening of a hidden door in the wall. John opened it and found what he presumed were towels. They were thinner than Earth towels but seemed to be very durable, especially to have lasted over 10,000 years.

John stepped into his steaming shower and lost himself in the mechanics of bathing, letting the stress of the last two days flow down the drain with the dirty water. Nothing could rid him of the horror of having shot his CO, but it had been a mercy killing. Sumner had welcomed it; John had seen the approval in his eyes.

Still on edge, John knew he needed release to knock the rough edges off his mood. He leaned back against the warm wall of the shower and took himself in hand. A few strokes and he was hard, but he needed more than touch to get off. He cycled through his usual suspects, but a set of blue eyes and a square jaw kept intruding. Giving in, John visualized the blue eyes, dark crew cut hair, and the large hands. He imagined those firm hands on his cock, stroking him from root to tip then playing with the sensitive slit while fingering his balls, pace quickening to bring him to completion. He opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed as he shot his load and left a pearly trail along the opposite wall.

He cleaned up and shut the shower off. He dried his hair first then the rest of his body. After pulling on an old t-shirt, his boxers and an old pair of sweat pants he curled up on his short bed and dropped off to sleep, memories of blue eyes dancing through his dreams.


End file.
